


Three Of Swords

by ThisIsMyDesignHannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Communication, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannigram in Italy, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, I'm not going to ruin the surprise but it'll be worth it!, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Murder Husbands, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Post-Season/Series 03, Scars, Surprise Ending, ThreeOfSwordsFFT, True Love, Will Loves Hannibal, threeofswords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal/pseuds/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal
Summary: Hannibal and Will have returned to Italy, together this time. But a train trip from Florence to Palermo has made Hannibal strangely pensive. Is it the past he broods over? Future? Will’s curious to find out, but it turns out to be even more than he was expecting.My piece for FannibalFest Toronto and Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive's#ThreeOfSwords Valentine's Fest!





	Three Of Swords

**Author's Note:**

> Enormous thanks to my amazing beta [fragile-teacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup) !
> 
> This fic has also been [translated into Russian here ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6594049) by the generous [Itami67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itami67/pseuds/Itami67)! Thank you!

 

“It’s beautiful.”

Hannibal’s near-whisper sent a pleasant shiver up Will’s spine, sounding through all his cells as if he’d been struck by a tuning fork. Even though Hannibal seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Will, his quiet voice electrified the previously silent space between them.

They had been silent for the majority of the trip, the low drone of the train’s engine and the rhythmic clack of the tracks the only accompaniment to their journey into the Italian countryside, rolling in time to the sway of their private compartment. The silence itself wove its way into that hypnotic mechanical symphony, thrumming between them, twining around a strangely familiar mix of comfort and tension.

_But now he speaks. And with words from the past._

Will found himself reluctant to respond, reticent to break the spell. He wasn’t even sure if Hannibal expected him to. Instead he hummed his vague assent and continued to watch Hannibal as he stared out the train’s window, strangely pensive and now silent once again.

Hannibal had fallen quiet as soon as they had cleared the outskirts of Florence, watching the countryside roll past, urban streaming into rural — vineyards, orchards, old stone fences, red roofed houses dotting the landscape here and there as it sped past their window faster and faster. It somehow felt like they were standing still, quiet, while the world spun and whirled around them.

_It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful._

Will had been watching Hannibal intently all this time, eyes sweeping that striking profile — so intimately familiar, yet perpetually startling in its perfection. Will memorized how the golden Italian sun kissed Hannibal’s features through the train window, how the subtle rocking of the car and the sun’s ever-changing path highlighted each of his features in a slow shift of light and shadow, softness and severity.

_So rare not to be the one being dissected… willingly flayed… turned inside out under the gaze of another._

Will had let himself drink his fill, watching in fascination as Hannibal had fallen into what could only be called _brooding_. Hannibal had no doubt known Will was watching him but hadn’t seemed to care, merely continued to stare out the window, legs crossed elegantly at the knee, elbow resting on the window ledge, one knuckle pressed tight against his lips — the very picture of pensive contemplation.

_He’s beautiful like this. Vulnerable. This place tears holes in what’s left of his person suit._

It had been risky coming back here, to Italy of all places. But over the last few months, Hannibal had talked him into it — honeyed tone and fluid words working their way into him as they always did, as Will always wanted them to.

_You’re never going to stop needing him to do that, are you? Convince you. Cajole you. You’ve come to rely on it, the freedom in it. But you haven’t needed convincing for a long time. Not really. Not for any of it. There’s nothing he can give you that you don’t want._

They had both agreed that the danger would be minimal with a short visit. By the time La Polizia or Interpol clocked them, they’d already be gone. Hannibal had waxed poetic about all the things he had not been able to show Will the last time they had been in Florence. Will had pretended not to see the veil draw down over Hannibal’s eyes when he spoke of that time.

_The wounds we dealt each other were so fresh then, so new. Then we found each other again, only to inflict even deeper ones. They’ve scabbed over, but they never really healed._

Instead, Will had allowed himself to admit that yes, maybe the trip would be “good for them”, that perhaps Italy was somewhere they should…revisit… at least so they could finally lay to rest some unspoken hurts from the past. And from the look on Hannibal’s face right now across from him, his heavy silence… perhaps those old injuries were fresher than Will had thought possible.

_You both wanted to heal old wounds by reopening them. Risky. Painful. But that is who we are. Why do something easy when you can go straight for the gut?_

Will let out a chuckle at that, loud enough that it managed to break Hannibal’s thousand-yard stare. Hannibal’s eyes flicked to Will’s and pinned him, narrowing, his head slowly tilted in that considering way of his that either meant infinite amusement or imminent danger. Will usually let himself coast safely in the former, secure in the notion that Hannibal’s indulgence of him seemed to know no bounds. In reality though, Hannibal’s silence had unnerved him.

_It’s so rare not to know what he’s thinking. It’s been a long time._

“Italy is beautiful, Hannibal. Thank you.” He tried to keep his tone soft, non-confrontational.

Hannibal’s eyebrows raised as he shifted in his seat to face Will more directly, hands clasping each other in his lap. Will found himself mirroring his posture, but he forced himself to open again, sitting back in his seat instead, hands coming to rest on his knees.

_Baring your neck._

“Thank you for what, Will?” Hannibal’s tone was… curious, light, bordering on professional.

_Interesting. Masks on, shields raised. Like sparring in his old office… tearing each other’s walls down in one place only to shore them up in another._

“For showing me Florence. You always said you wanted to, and now you have.” He held his gaze firmly and fought the urge to mirror Hannibal’s coldness with his own. He was waiting for… something.

_Dammit Hannibal, what’s got you so… preoccupied?_

Instead of taking the bait, Hannibal merely gave him a polite smile in return. It didn’t reach his eyes. They were locked on Will like he was trying to turn the microscope around.

“I’m happy you were willing to indulge me.”

Hannibal’s chilly tone sent a deep ache through Will’s heart. He hadn’t felt that cold stare, this _distance_ , for a long time. Will felt himself soften completely; they didn’t have to fall back on old habits just because of old pain.

_Enough now._

“Come on Hannibal, I wanted to come here just as much as you did. You know that, don’t you?”

Hannibal eyed him closely, still guarded, but said nothing. Will could see _something_ moving behind his eyes.  Something dangerous.

_Fear. He’s afraid. These are the last of the things left unsaid between us. Silence can be a bloody business._

Part of him would always take a perverse pleasure in watching Hannibal squirm. In knocking him off balance. In dealing him a blow that actually landed. That viciousness was a part of them both, entwined within them. But now was not the time. Will pushed the urge down, focusing instead on the surge of empathy he felt welling in his heart.

_Don’t fight him. Not now. Both of you have traded pain for love. Remind him of that._

With no more hesitation, Will moved quickly, leaning across the aisle to clasp Hannibal’s face in his hands, catching his mouth in a deep kiss. Hannibal stiffened briefly, walls offering one last resistance before starting to crumble. Will could feel that icy exterior melting under his lips, responding, opening to him; his tongue searching and finding, hot and sweet and strong. Hannibal sighed deeply into his mouth. It sounded like relief. Will breathed him in, trying to take into himself whatever fear or doubt or pain which had Hannibal so tied in knots.

_Give it up Hannibal.  What’s yours is mine, remember?_

He felt Hannibal’s hands come up to tangle in his curls, pulling him in, holding him fast. Hannibal’s mouth was greedy for him, rough, perfect, but still infinitely tender. It never ceased to amaze him just how well they fit together; how even from their first kiss, Hannibal had tasted like home. Will kissed him deeper still.

A low rumble had started from Hannibal’s chest that Will could feel inside himself, echoing his desire, his need — it was a _connection_ that somehow never seemed to diminish or dull, a molten thread tying them together. Sometimes it needed plucking to see how brightly it still sang; but Will knew, no matter how much he’d fought it, or for how long, no more perfect note had ever been produced.

Hannibal bit gently at his lips as they finally pulled back, still holding each other’s faces in firm hands.Will rested their foreheads together and took a moment to feel how heavy their breathing had already become, the kiss tilting them over that fine balance between comfort and desire. He held tight to Hannibal, willing him to feel his grounding force.

_I’m here Hannibal. I’m not going anywhere._

When they pulled back slightly to search each other’s eyes, Will revelled in the smile he saw blooming slowly on Hannibal’s kiss-red lips, the cautious relief, the slight blush on his cheeks no doubt mirroring his own. Will held him there with a rueful smile and a cheeky cock of his eyebrows.

_Are you quite finished brooding?_

Will released Hannibal’s face but gripped his hands, offering a brief but warm squeeze before sitting back in his seat once again. He gave Hannibal’s foot a playful kick as he crossed his legs.

“Now then, are you going to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?” He kept his tone light and made sure Hannibal saw his smile.

Hannibal drew himself up slightly, but then his entire frame softened, the decision to let down his guard finally made, to let Will into this final room at the top of the tallest tower in the wing of his memory palace — a place he’d reserved solely for the viciousness they had endured at each other’s hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but direct.

“The last time I was on a train out of Florence, it was also Valentine’s Day.”

_Valentine’s Day?_

Will didn’t know what to do with that exactly. He hadn’t actually remembered it was Valentine’s Day, but it didn’t surprise him that Hannibal had. But that couldn’t possibly be what he’d been brooding over… Hannibal could be sentimental, but not ridiculous. Will made a mental note to make it up to him tonight, but for now he said nothing, merely waited for Hannibal to continue.

“I was traveling from Florence to Palermo, our orbits once again coalescing around each other. You may already have arrived in Italy. I had the body of another man in a trunk at my feet, and the lips of another woman still fresh on my cheek.”

It felt like a slap. Will sat back in his seat, subconsciously recoiling, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Hannibal was clearly determined to lay this wound bare, for both of them. He knew it was necessary, but Will couldn’t help striking back, even though the low blow felt beneath him even as it left his mouth.

“What’s your point Hannibal? Or are you just retaliating because I didn’t buy you any chocolate?”

Now it was Hannibal’s turn to chuckle — in fact Will’s sass seemed to bolster him somehow.

_Never one to respond in the most predictable way._

Will felt himself soften immediately. He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender, shaking his head before inclining it in an invitation to continue.

_Sorry. Ignore that. Go on._

“I anticipated much about our trip here, Will… How it would feel to show you my beloved Florence, of course, but also the pain of revisiting the backdrop of old betrayals. I had expected re-visiting the Uffizi with you would hurt the most, sitting with you in front of La Primavera, wandering that courtyard outside where things went… so horribly wrong. I have always remembered that look on your face, when you first sat down beside me, bruised and battered…”

“Chiyoh had thrown me off a train, pretty similar to this one actually.” Will threw him a rueful smile.

“Atta girl.” Hannibal returned the smile fondly, before continuing, “In that moment though, framed by that painting, your face, bloodied as it was, was more beautiful to me than any painting could ever be… How you looked at me after all that time, all those wounds we’d dealt each other… the promise in it… I meant it when I said _“Everyday, forever”_  Will. That look sustained me through much of my time in custody, through much of the time you lay unconscious after our fall from the bluff. Even after so many rejections, that look promised hope. And then… well…”

Will absently fingered the faint scar on his forehead. When he caught Hannibal watching him with raised eyebrows, he huffed a laugh and forced himself to leave the scar alone.

“Yeah, well… we’ve both made our peace with what happened after the Uffizi. But somehow this train ride manages to be more painful than revisiting all of that? Than everything we confronted in Florence?” Will ‘s voice was gentle, coaxing. He wanted to get to the meat of it.

“It is, Will. Infinitely more. You see, the way you look at me now means so much more than the memory I clung to from the Uffizi. Trust, it seems, is a more crucial ingredient than I was ready to admit to all those years ago.The present eclipses the past and that memory no longer carries the same ache.”

Hannibal paused a moment, taking a deep but quiet breath, regarding Will closely. Eventually he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wading into an unpleasant corner of his memory palace, dark, neglected and treacherous. He kept his eyes closed as he spoke.

“The last time I was on this train, Will, it was also Valentine’s Day. I had left Bedelia in Florence, a perpetual reminder that she could never fill the vacuum left by your absence. I had killed a man who in some ways had been a very sorry proxy for you, his body packed at my feet to travel with me. I was on my way to Palermo in the hopes that you would find what I left of him.”

Hannibal sat up now and looked Will dead in the eye. Will could feel that old jealousy bubbling beneath the surface of his mind, gnashing its teeth, wanting to lash out. But the look on Hannibal’s face, that earnest tone… Will did his best to push it aside.

_The wound is open again. Either we mend it now or we’ll rip each other to pieces trying to sew it up._

“But even killing him had lacked the beauty it once held for me. A painting with a stunted palette, all muted greys. I felt… broken… fractured… missing pieces. Missing _you,_ Will.”

Will remembered the deep ache in his gut after Hannibal had left, one that had nothing to do with his physical wound. He remembered what it had felt like to miss him so terribly that he had built a boat and sailed to find him, even while he contemplated killing him. He had to consciously stop himself from rubbing at the scar on his stomach.

“So you left me your broken heart. A Valentine written on a broken man.”

“Yes, I felt my heart had been flayed, so I flayed him just the same. Twisted, raw, opened up and laid bare, not only to you, but also to myself. People who practice the tarot believe the Three Of Swords to be a powerful symbol. Meaning different things when pulled either points down or points up.”

“I never figured you to believe in tarot, Hannibal”

Hannibal finally allowed a real smile. “I enjoy symbolism in all its forms, Will. Something need not pretend to prognosticate in order to communicate a theme. Pulled points down, the card symbolizes sorrow, heartbreak, rejection… a painful separation.”

Will swallowed heavily. It was certainly apt. He would never forget the image of that tableau… _Hannibal’s heart_ , bloody, raw... somehow savage yet refined all at once, how it had hovered over the image of the skull, suspended on three swords…

_Swords that pointed at the frescoed ceiling, not the floor. Points up._

He gave Hannibal a questioning look.

Hannibal gave him another smile, always one to appreciate how Will kept up with him. It was Hannibal’s turn now to reach across and grasp Will’s hand, squeezing it gently, seeking contact. He studied Will’s face, no doubt registering the old hurt still lodged there. Will hoped he also saw the love, the fascination, the curiosity.

“It was on that train, Will, that I realized that _no one could ever take your place_ , and that I had left you behind. That regardless of reason or circumstance, past or future, all the infinite possible outcomes... that no one could ever match you. I realized how much I needed you after I had already lost you, perhaps forever.”

Hannibal moved out of his seat to come sit beside him, pulling their clasped hands to rest in his lap, his gaze fixed on them, his other hand moving to play idly with Will’s fingers as he spoke. Will had rarely seen him like this, almost shy, not since the morning after their first night together. Hannibal took another deep breath before speaking again.

“I had never experienced true regret until that moment on the train, Will. I have experienced it since, but never so fiercely as that moment when I realized how truly perfect you are for me, and that I had done something I might never be able to rectify. When arranged points up, the Three Of Swords symbolizes optimism, forgiveness, the releasing of pain. When I got on the train, I was going to place it the other way, but… that train ride changed my plans. I knew that I needed you. That the only way we could move forward was for us both to forgive. I hoped that somehow you could forgive me, that perhaps _someday_ both of us could let it all go.”

Will let Hannibal’s words wash over him. Through him. He didn’t rush, didn’t fight how he was feeling. He’d learned long ago that weighing betrayals and forgiveness, placing blame or carrying resentment would always be a zero sum game for them. Their reciprocity made it impossible to decide who had the upper hand. It no longer mattered to him anyway.

Hannibal still wasn’t looking at him. He continued to pluck idly at the fingers of Will’s left hand, turning it over in his grasp to trace the lines on his palm. Waiting. Waiting on him. Will took a deep breath, almost a sigh.

_Loss teaches us about the worth of things. We both had to learn._

“Hannibal, we’ve both betrayed each other so many times… round and round… a snake eating its own tail. What happened between us defines who we are, but it doesn’t control us. Hannibal, look at me.”

Will extracted his hand from Hannibal’s warm grip, moving it to tilt Hannibal’s face to meet his gaze. Hannibal let him, his expression inscrutable.  

“Your _someday_ came a long time ago for me, Hannibal. I only want to move forward, not wallow in the past. I did that for too long. Optimism, forgiveness, releasing pain… for better or worse you taught me how to do that a long time ago.” Will let out a soft chuckle. “I had to if I wanted to survive loving you.”

Hannibal’s smile widened imperceptibly, but his eyes shone.

“Now, kiss me and tell me about where we’re eating in Palermo. I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t let either of us screw this up again… and I’m starving.”

Will raised his eyebrows with a cheeky, suggestive smile and leaned in for another kiss, but was surprised when Hannibal stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“If that is truly the case, Will, then there’s only one more thing left to discuss.”

Will groaned, dramatically making a show of scrubbing his hands down his face and rolling his eyes, but his smile was playful.

“It’s always one more thing with you, isn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted the quiet.”

“Indulge me, won’t you? Would you mind fetching my valise for me? It’s over by the door.”

Will groaned again and dragged himself out of his seat, grumbling good-humouredly as he turned away to grab the briefcase only a few steps away, “I don’t _fetch,_ Hannibal. Why can’t you just…”

When Will turned back towards him, he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the unnecessary valise on the floor.

Hannibal was down on one knee.

“What… What are you… Hannibal… What?” Will was stammering. His mind just couldn’t seem to click into place. Hannibal seemed to be holding up what appeared to be crumpled piece of paper, not a ring… but his posture…

_Is this really happening?_

“Will, I have no intention of feeling that regret again. You are my deepest desire, my perfect partner, the only thing I never knew I needed until I lost you.”

Hannibal held up the paper in his hand for Will to take.

“Will you marry me?”

Will reached out with shaky hands and plucked it from Hannibal’s palm. Looking more closely, Will realized it was no mere crumpled paper, but was instead a perfectly folded origami anatomical heart.

“Open it”

Will was keenly aware that he hadn’t answered yet; but he did as he was told, his fingers clumsy as they slowly unfolded the paper, trying his best not to rip it. As he opened the heart, _Hannibal’s heart…_ the paper slowly revealed itself to be an etching from an old book.

_The Vitruvian man. Can he really see me that way?_

At the centre of the creased paper sat a simple gold ring, plain and unassuming, but holding so much beauty, so much meaning. He knew Hannibal had picked it just for him. He rolled it in his fingers, looking for the inscription he knew would be there.

_To perfection and mended teacups._

“Get up, Hannibal.”

Will voice was quiet but he tried to keep it from shaking. Hannibal stood, calm, hands at his sides, somehow managing to exude both anticipation and infinite patience all at once.

“Are you serious with this?”

“You doubt my sincerity?”

“No. I just… no.”  Will took another deep breath. “If I say yes to this Hannibal… you know… you _need_ to know… that will be it. There’s no going back from there. I couldn’t take it. Not again.”

“As long as you’ll have me, Will, I want never to be parted from you. I don’t intend to lose you again. Say yes, Will. Marry me.”

_This man. This life._

Will slipped the ring on his finger, couldn’t resist a rueful smile when it fit perfectly into place like it had always been there.

_In a way, it always has._

He looked up at Hannibal, standing stock still as the world contracted to only the two of them, the rhythmic sound of the tracks beating in time with their breath, the slight sway of the train car. It felt like standing on that bluff all over again, but this time Will was determined to make the choice he had wanted to make all along.

“Yes.”

Hannibal moved quickly, sweeping him up in a fierce embrace, lips searching, finding, devouring, seeking the only home they had ever known. Will let himself drown in it, let himself revel in the love he felt flowing between them. He marvelled at this impossible feeling of both finality and infinite beginnings.

Hannibal kissed his lips, his face, his neck, his hair, until they were both laughing and collapsed into a warm embrace. Will let his chin rest on Hannibal’s shoulder, feeling Hannibal’s hand come up to cradle the back of his head.

“You’ve made me a happy man, Will.” Hannibal’s voice was rough with emotion.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s arms tightened around him once more, holding him close. His voice, when it finally came, was a husky purr in Will’s ear.

“Happy Valentine’s, Will.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, THANK YOU FOR READING! Kudos and friendly comments are magical, and you are magical for leaving them! 
> 
> Come flail at me about Hannibal on [Tumblr](https://thisismydesignhannibal.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> I just wanted to say how proud I am to have worked on this fest, and how amazing it's been to be able to help Fannibalfest-Toronto. I was there for FFT1 and it was incredible! As a fan-run event, FannibalFest exists because of Fannibal support, and they're going to need that support again to host FFT2 in 2018! To help support FannibalFest by donation, please visit [HERE](https://www.paypal.me/FannibalFestCorp) :)


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